


home is not a place

by purpose



Category: Game Grumps, Good Game (TV 2017)
Genre: (sort of) Unhealthy Relationship, Angst, Fighting, M/M, Making Out, Making Up, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 10:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpose/pseuds/purpose
Summary: After Ryland catches Alex conspiring with Steamin', their subsequent fight takes an alternate route.





	home is not a place

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a prompt at my [game grumps blog!](http://www.dannydontyouknow.tumblr.com)  
> (you can also read it there!)  
> Feel free to send me prompts!

The cacophony of the party fell to a dull hum as Ryland’s anger and jealousy surged up the moment Alex and Steamin’ grasped hands and pulled each other into a hug. 

“Look at these people—these  _ idiots! _ ” Jesse shouted, his own emotions seeming to feed off of the pure rage radiating off of Ryland. 

“That  _ motherfucker _ ,” he growled. He pushed off of the balcony railing and toward the door, his vision blurred by what he refused to admit was anything but the alcohol. Some part of him acknowledged that the man he was angrily pushing past could easily ruin his life, so he tossed an “it’s nice to meet you” over his shoulder.  

He shoved his way through the throngs of people, his eyes locking on to the dull yellow jacket that Alex had excitedly donned earlier that night. His mind struggled to comprehend half of the theories he was producing about Alex and Steamin’. The only thought that stood out was the rampant fury at the thought of Alex destroying everything they had worked so hard for—it likely was not even Alex’s fault, he was just too gullible. 

They found each other on the stairs. 

“Okay, okay, it’s not what it looked like,” Alex said, his posture open yet defensive. 

Ryland scoffed, “Oh, yeah? Then what was it?” 

“He wants me to coach for him.” 

Suddenly, all of the awful possibilities he had conjured up on his journey down to find Alex pale in comparison to what Alex just admitted. His anger gave way to fear, to loneliness, before resurfacing. 

“God, Alex. He’s fucking with you! He doesn’t want you. He’s using you to get to  _ me, _ ” Ryland said. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling tightly as he tried to wrap his mind around this night. 

“Not everything’s about  _ you,  _ Ry,” Alex said, his shoulders drawing in. He put a hand out to the railing next to them as he took a step back down the stairs. 

“Don’t you understand? He doesn’t need another coach, especially not one who can’t even pronounce “esports” correctly,” Ryland sneered, exhaling sharply in exasperation. Why can’t Alex just see where he’s coming from? He’s known Steamin’ for far too long to expect anything less from him. 

“It’s a misleading word,” Alex said softly. 

“You know what?  _ Fine _ . Go! Waste your time, but don’t fucking waste mine. I built my entire life around this esports team, you  _ will not _ ruin it for us.” Ryland punctuated his words but jabbing his finger sharply into Alex’s chest. He ignored the way Alex flinched. 

Something in Alex snapped and his expression soured. “And what was your life built on before? Nachos and sadness? Lazing around in your underwear and—” 

“It was built on you! Ever since you drunkenly stumbled into my life everything I have done, I have done for you! Yet you would throw all of that away for Steamin’!” he spits out his rival’s name like it physically hurts him to say it. Ryland stepped down onto the stair that Alex was standing on, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. He pushed Alex’s shoulder back, turning him, before pushing him against the wall. “A-and you would just fucking leave us! Leave  _ me!”  _

He stepped forward, crowding closer into Alex’s space. He heard Alex whisper, “Ryland” before he crashed his mouth against Alex’s. His anger, finally felled, simmered and allowed his desperation to crowd forward. He grasped Alex’s face, holding on to him like a lifeline. 

Their lips moved against the other’s, and it was rough; they were too discontent with each other for it to be anything but a fierce representation of their most jagged emotions. 

Alex’s hands moved to Ryland’s shirt, his hands curled around the fabric and pulled him impossibly closer. He bit down on Ryland’s lip and drew a high, broken keening sound from his throat. 

Ryland fisted his hands in Alex’s hair and forced his head back, his knuckles scraping against the wall, as he worked his lips down Alex’s throat, his teeth nipping here and there. He sucked a bruise along his jaw, his lips mapping the slopes and edges of Alex. He vaguely recognized Alex’s hands inching their way up Ryland’s shirt, his fingers fanning out over the planes of Ryland’s chest. He pushed his chest against Alex’s hands, enjoying the cold, yet comforting, exploration. 

He placed a kiss on the shell of Alex’s ear, his nose tucked into the expanse of curls before him. He inhaled, savoring the familiar scent of  _ Alex _ before he laid his head down on Alex’s right shoulder, his head angled toward Alex’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his hands coming up to rest on Alex’s other shoulder and hip. “You deserve to make your own decisions, if you want to move on then you should be able to make that choice. I’ll, uh, I’ll love you regardless.” Ryland closed his eyes, finding the words coming to him easier when he did not have to face music directly. 

“I would never— _ could  _ never—leave you,” Alex admitted. 

Ryland took a moment to savor those words. “We should get some rest before the Blood Match.” 

“Alright. Let’s go home.” 

Ryland nodded, a rare grin spreading across his face.  _ Home.  _


End file.
